


Savage

by technocrusade



Series: dreamnoblade galore by technocrusade [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, Demon Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Enemy Lovers, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guns, King Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Kissing, Light Angst, Long-Haired Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Rough Kissing, Secret Relationship, Shooting Guns, Soft Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Songfic, Thrones, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technocrusade/pseuds/technocrusade
Summary: “What thoughts are running through that pretty head of yours, hm?”“Nothing for the world to know.”“Well…” Dream pulls out his gun again, aiming it at Techno for the second time that night. His smile widens as if he’s a predator that has finally caught its prey. “If they’re really that insignificant, then surely you wouldn’t mind if they were your last.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: dreamnoblade galore by technocrusade [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190198
Comments: 19
Kudos: 237





	Savage

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off [savage by bahari](https://youtu.be/vOBoXe5ITVw)! lyrics are in italics. plain italics are dream's, and bold italics are techno's. please don't expect too much, i was just watching a happy sugar life amv that had this song and this idea came to mind and would not leave me alone so i just wrote this.

Techno still thinks Dream is as stunning as ever.

They’ve known each other for quite a while, a complex bond of sorts having been formed through common bloodshed and battles. Time means nothing to them, but centuries of being acquainted with each other were certainly too precious to simply ignore. It wasn’t uncommon to see them clashing blades, dancing around each other and making the battlefield their own personal dueling grounds. It was a lot less common, however to see them in rare moments of vulnerability under the shades of trees and reading out libraries of books in their own little world. That makes sense, considering they’re supposed to be enemies.

They may not be on the same side, but they don’t have to be allies for Techno to have good eyesight. He has no shame in letting ruby eyes linger and rake over the other’s entire being, not when he knows Dream thrives off the attention anyway. He has no qualms with admitting his physical attraction, with gracing appreciation and praise to that which deserves it. Whether from an artistic or romantic lens, it’s clear that Dream is, simply put, beautiful. He is graceful, and he is elegant, and he is ethereal.

He is positively divine when sitting on the windowsill of the throne room, bathed in the glow of moonlight evanescent and painted in the refractions of colored light from the stained-glass windows. Silver threads through golden strands of hair framing the delicate face partially obscured by the smiley face porcelain mask, hiding what prying eyes seek the most. He is clad in robes of ivory silk that hang loosely off his fit frame, showing off his exposed shoulders and the sliver of skin of his legs that disappear into thigh high leather boots. Markings of gold trail up his arms, like ink on parchment written in cursive and oh so very alluring. Wings protrude from his open back, feathers ruffled ever so slightly in the fervid atmosphere of Techno’s domain; despite the attempt to dress light with the sleeveless top and shorts, it seems as if he can’t do much to mitigate the stuffiness of thick masses of feathers. And yet, Dream does not look fazed as he raises his arm to aim his pistol at Techno.

After all, it only makes sense that an angel would be sent to kill the demon king.

_I am the sun, you know you need me_

Despite that, despite everything he is still radiant, almost blindingly so.

Techno is quick to hide behind a pillar, barely making it before the signature _bang_ of a gunshot rings throughout the silence. He takes his own gun out of its holster, firing back in the direction of where he last saw the angel. The demon king curses under his breath as bullets embed themselves into the marble near his head, making shrapnel scatter and dust settle on his wine-colored dress shirt. He doesn’t have much ammo nor does he have the skill to match Dream’s when it comes to ranged weapons, and he can’t exactly do much with a sword when he’s in a gunfight. It makes sense in the grand scheme of things, seeing as angels are relatively frail and yet agile whereas demons tended to be more physically adept and thus prefer to fight in close combat. Many a time demons have fallen when they couldn’t close the distance between them and their killer quick enough. It may seem like Techno’s in a losing battle, but he has an edge that most of Dream’s victims don’t.

Techno knows Dream. He knows of how impatient he can be and how he can overestimate himself. He knows of how he cannot wait to act, how he cannot wait to make an opportunity for himself. He knows of the itch to move, to do something. He knows of how his fingers twitch with the urge to end things quickly, of how his grip flexes between too tight and too loose in an attempt to distract himself from being to rash. Eventually he will wear himself down, tire himself out and run out of bullets. Techno just needs to bide his time, and wait it out. Dream will eventually crumble, will eventually succumb and Techno will be there to punish his carelessness.

As predicted, he does.

Techno has sharp ears, so of course he hears Dream holster his gun and take a few light steps towards the pillar he’s hiding behind. It’s a valiant effort to keep quiet, really, but Techno’s hearing is far too sensitive for him to bypass. Sure enough, when the angel has gotten close enough that the demon can almost feel his divine presence, he grabs at a foot and pulls so that he trips. Dream yelps as he lands on his side with a loud _thump_ and Techno is quick to force him on his back then climb up on him to put his own gun to the other’s head. For a moment, everything is tense and uncertain with the air buzzing like it’s charged with unknown tension. All their skirmishes end like this, always swift and fleeting and like it wasn’t quite enough. Like they wanted to drag it out, to dance around each other further, to dangle the price of their lives in front of each other dangerously for far too long _._ The angel breaks the silence first, huffing at the rough treatment but not making a single move to escape; instead, he simply brings a hand up to his mask.

The white porcelain is cracked from impact, and it shatters into jagged pieces as it falls down onto the tiled floor. Techno’s ruby eyes search for the flaxen bangs that frame his soft face delicately like they’re something to be upheld. Techno’s ruby eyes search for the freckles that dot his cheeks like little constellations on sun-kissed skin, like stars on the nights best left to secrecy. Techno’s ruby eyes search for the coral lips that part ever so slightly in surprise, a tongue darting out almost teasingly to wet them. Finally, slowly but surely, Techno’s ruby eyes search for his.

Dream’s emerald eyes were wild and vibrant, almost glowing like radioactive waste. They were the color of poison, of snake’s venom and yet Techno wants to drink it all in and be intoxicated.

_And you might get burned if you take too much_

“You really never learn.” Techno mutters curtly, admonishing Dream’s lack of self-preservation. His grip loosens up, alleviating some of the pressure on the angel’s skull when he doesn’t dig the gun into it as much. He’s fully aware they’re in a compromising position, with how he sits to immobilize the other’s lower body and how his other hand is at the side of his head to cage him in. Despite the clear leniency in how Techno pins him down, despite the fact Dream’s hands are free and that they both know fully well how easy it would be for him to push someone off him… he doesn’t. He never does, really, not when they’re like this.

“You waited for me? I’m flattered.” Dream’s lips curl into a catlike smirk, smug and knowing and it should make Techno burn with annoyance rather than infatuation. The fact he’s so nonchalant when his life is supposedly at risk should make anger bubble up in Techno’s stomach, not butterflies. Oh, how Dream holds such control over the demon king. Perhaps it would be more useful had he cared to exploit it for personal gain.

“Don’t be too self-centered now.” Techno scoffs and looks away, tracing the patterns on the walls and noting the scars of countless of battles. He commits them to memory, despite knowing that he’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and for eternity. He notes the bullet holes, the sword indents, the arrow cracks. They’re all evidence of every encounter he’s had with Dream, they’re all reminders that what they have is very much tangible and real. He doesn’t have much else to say, anyway, so he takes the bait with little remorse. “I wait only for death so I can defy it.”

“And I will be your death, am I not?” The demon king can hear the smile in his angel’s voice, can feel the way a hand comes up to cup his face and coax him into making eye contact. Techno can feel his own restraint snapping, its strings pulled taut by fondness and saudade and endless teasing. He can feel the underlying desire when Dream finally asks his question. “Will you defy me, Techno?”

_Don't get addicted 'cause, I'm gonna fade you like that rush_

“No.” Techno finally turns to look at Dream properly, to meet his eye. There’s a glint of mischief in them, but he doesn’t quite feel like being toyed with so he refuses to bite back and instead goes straight to the point. He’s gone too far long without this, and has become quite sentimental. “Never.” Dream raises an eyebrow at his forwardness but ends up chuckling and pulling him close anyway, whispering against his lips when they’re just a few centimeters apart.

“Good.” It’s the last thing Techno hears before the distance between them finally closes. It’s bittersweet, like always. It’s bittersweet, the way Dream both melts into the touch yet snakes his hand to curl around Techno’s neck. It’s bittersweet, how even in the throes of love they dance with death. It would be so easy for Techno to smash Dream’s head into the ground, for Dream to press just a bit too hard and choke him. Thankfully, his angel has resorted to other ways of leaving him breathless.

Dream pushes up against him, and Techno is more than happy to pull him up so they can kiss deeper without one’s weight crushing down on the other. They do so lazily, like they’re just getting to know each other all over again. They do so indulgingly, like they’ve never explored every inch and crevice of each other before. They’re seated on the comparatively cold floor, wandering hands the only thing warming them up. Everything is slow and dragged out; they’re taking their time with this like they have all of it in the world, and it’s a wonderful illusion to be shattered by them breaking apart so they can catch their own breaths.

Vermilion is painted on the expanse of skin from Dream’s cheeks down his neck, and Techno thinks a few splotches of merlot would complement the color well.

_Is that blood on me or blush? So what._

Techno was no artist, but he sure as hell could paint Dream’s collarbone with the deep purples of love bites. The other is sensitive to the onslaught, and the demon king takes the opportunity to pick him up and manhandle him to a more comfortable place. His angel is quite light, though he can’t tell if it’s from his physique or from his own strength. Regardless, they make their way to the throne with little problems aside from how Techno’s restraint wavers dangerously when Dream fills his ears with wanton little noises that seem to echo around the empty room.

Techno loves the way colors show up on Dream’s body; they’re so vibrant and beautiful and it’s like he’s a canvas that can take on a million different paints perfectly. He loves red especially, loves the way its rosy hue is so clear on the sun-kissed skin. He loves the way Dream’s swollen lips shine with carmine after a few too harsh nips in the middle of heated make outs. He loves the way Dream’s cheeks fill with vermilion after a few too sincere compliments and proclamations of love. He loves the way Dream’s clothes stain with crimson after a few too close calls in battle, reminding him of just how impressive his angel’s prowess in combat really is. Most of all, he loves the way Dream looks sitting on his throne of red, on the scarlet cushions and bejeweled sides.

Dream looks like regality incarnate, like the embodiment of elegance and kingly grace. He fits just perfectly on the seat, and the demon king resists the urge to bestow his crown upon him. Techno doesn’t know if it’s another thing to do with their species or if it was just him. Surely not all angels were this divine. It almost feels like Dream is more fit for the title than Techno; it almost feels like Techno should be compelled to bow to him right now. Was Dream an angel, or was he simply a god himself? If so, should a prayer slip past his lips and would he even listen?

_You know I'm not a saint but I can make you pray_

_So get down on your knees, give me a reason I should stay_

“What thoughts are running through that pretty head of yours, hm?” Techno abruptly snaps out of his own thoughts, finally brought back to reality at the sound of Dream’s coy voice. It’s playful, almost far too much so, and Techno raises an eyebrow in suspicion when they make eye contact.

“Nothing for the world to know.” It’s a lie, and they both know that. They both know that whenever they’re together, Techno’s mind is plagued by thoughts of Dream. They both know that the demon can’t seem to stop thinking of his angel, no matter the time or place. They both know that the demon doesn’t even try to curb them, doesn’t even care to minimize them.

“Well…” Dream pulls out his gun again, aiming it at Techno for the second time that night. His smile widens as if he’s a predator that has finally caught its prey. “If they’re really that insignificant, then surely you wouldn’t mind if they were your last.”

The demon king laughs, loud and unforgiving. It makes sense, after all. They are lovers as well as they are enemies. The crown of Dream’s head is graced by a hovering halo, while the crown of Techno’s head is cursed by a pair of long, pointed horns. Dream’s back blooms with wings so bright and soft and beautiful; they’re meant to fly, to soar up in the sky and bring you to heights unknown. Techno’s back spouts a tail so dark and rough and unpleasant; they’re meant to twist, to coil around one’s body and drag you down to the depths of your grave. Dream lives solely to obey his god, and Techno lives solely to disobey exactly that. They’re everything the other is not, and of course Dream doesn’t forget that so easily when he’s so hellbent on fulfilling his duties.

“Do you really have to do this every single time?” Techno asks, more out of fond exasperation than anything. He’s well aware the other has no more bullets. His angel chuckles and puts it away, instead beckoning the other closer. The demon king is hesitant at first, but complies eventually. His steps are muffled by the carpet, like the throne room itself is trying to hide their secret for them.

“Must you even ask?” Dream sits up properly to caress Techno’s face, sliding his hand down to his shoulder and gripping at it with a surprising strength to push him onto his knees in front of him. It’s almost painful, but he’s not the demon king for nothing. It wasn’t expected, sure, but it’s not like he particularly hates the view from down here. “Demons, they’re…”

_Trapped inside this madness, I know you wanna have this_

_So I can take advantage_

_“Savage.”_ Dream spits out, with a venomous tone putting the poisonous green of his emerald eyes to shame. Techno grunts as the grip tightens, nails digging almost painfully into his shoulder. The expression of distaste on his face does not belong on a divine being. It almost feels like the demon king is looking at a mirror with how much it resembles himself.

His angel was always so fickle, always so quick to switch from one end of the spectrum to another. He was always one to flit between muttering sentiments of love to hissing out halfhearted hatred. It was almost a game, at this point. Perhaps it had something to do with having a strong sense of duty on top of being an emotional person. Perhaps it had something to do with his strong sense of responsibility being tested by his strong sense of love. Whatever it was, it kept Techno on his toes constantly. If he were brave enough to admit it, then they would both know he quite likes the unpredictability.

“We aren’t all that disparate, you know.” Techno’s own ruby eyes are sharp, cutting through the stone-cold façade and hardened emeralds. He has never been one to care much for his own alignment with his species, but he decides to humor his lover for the sake of it. “I may have killed thousands of humans, but you’ve easily vanquished the same number in demons.”

And it’s true. Angels and demons were simply two sides of the same coin, both ultimately following the commands of a superior being. They were simply the same species, both having diverged at the beginning but ultimately ending up on mirroring paths. Demons were simply fallen angels and angels were simply ascended demons. What made murder under the pretense of heavenly order justifiable when murder under the pretense of hell’s will was not? What made swaying humans to a side so bad when that’s essentially what both were doing anyway?

Demons were just angels that had given up reputation for freedom. Angels were just demons that had given up freedom for reputation. Demons were just angels without haloes and wings. Angels were just demons without horns and tails. Demons were just angels bathed in the color of night. Angels were just demons showered by the daylight. There was nothing more there to differentiate them.

  
“It’s different.” Dream forces out like he’s trying to convince himself more than Techno. At this point, neither of them can tell if it’s just a playful quip or if they’re truly starting to question themselves. “It’s righteous.”

“And who says it is?” It’s rhetorical, honestly. His angel doesn’t answer his question, instead opting to trail his fingers down the sides of Techno’s face once again. He always seems to do this, always seems to want to have his hands on Techno like he’s trying to make sure he’s still there. It’s a valid fear, honestly, and Techno finds himself plagued by it too. The demon king is more than willing to let Dream indulge, melting into the touch that feels oh so divine.

**_When you touch me you take me to heaven_ **

The fingers find their way threading through pink strands of hair, the gesture soothing and relaxing and making the demon king lower his guard. They comb through the tangles of his locks, making them fall apart just like Techno’s defenses in the face of Dream. He doesn’t exactly mind; in fact, he lets the very threads of himself be unraveled and remastered into the tapestry Dream wants to see. Under masterful fingertips, his layers are shed and all that remains of the intimidating demon king is touch-starved Techno. Under masterful fingertips, he is no longer a soldier but instead a lover.

Dream is Techno’s saving grace, his light in the darkness. He is the laughter to his somberness, the recklessness to his carefulness. Where Dream is all smiles and optimism, Techno is all apathy and cynicism. Dream is a breath of fresh air for Techno, and he breathes him in like he’s oxygen on a hot summer day. They strike a delicate balance with their opposing personality traits, and it’s admittedly pleasant to have.

Dream slows down in his ministrations; the bitterness having seeped out of him long ago and making room for his sweet beloved. Techno is about to complain when he feels arms wrap around his neck, his angel leaning over to press a chaste kiss on his forehead before burying his face in his shoulder. He returns the hug almost desperately, knowing what this means.

**_When you hold me my body's a weapon_ **

Technoblade. That was the name given to him all those eons ago. Of course, he lives up to his namesake. He is sharp, and swift, and cunning and merciless all in one. He is his own justice, and he is blind as he strikes down whatever crosses his path. He is his own tool, his own weapon to wreak havoc with. Technoblade would be the name to carve itself into history with a sword carrying the souls of thousands, to smear red onto the pages of history books with hands stained with the blood of thousands.

Techno is Dream’s equal. They’re similar in more ways than they think, honestly. They both have impressive persistence, both have the same penchant for combat and competition. They’re both so strong and powerful and unwavering, and it almost feels like they’re looking at themselves when they look at each other on the battlefield. Techno is a semblance of impartiality to Dream, and he relishes the fact that there will always be someone to knock sense into him and keep him in line when he starts to become too far gone.

Everyone is equal faced with a blade; everyone is equally dead faced with The Blade. Dream has Techno wrapped around his pinky, has his fingers curled around the hilt that is Techno’s power. He is ready to wield at the hands of his angel, he is ready to destroy and be destroyed and yet… he isn’t made to do anything. Dream whispers requests instead of commands, whispers love instead of hate.

**_If you think that you can save me, break me down, and tame me_ **

**_Here's your chance to do some damage_ **

****

Techno slowly rises, lifting Dream up once again to switch their positions so that he’s sitting on the throne while the angel is on him. The warmth is suffocating in this type of temperature, and Techno only lets himself burn. His passion is fervid, like an inferno blazing with all his emotions only to be quelled by the calming presence that is Dream’s hands still wrapped around him in a hug.

It would be so, so easy for Dream to snap his neck. To pull out a dagger and stab him in the back, to take out another gun and shoot him in the head. It would also be so, so easy for Dream to make Techno do his bidding. To wage war, to kill his people. And yet, he never does, and that is perhaps the strongest sign of their unwavering love and loyalty despite the circumstances. That is perhaps the strongest piece of evidence Techno has that points to the fact that he’s never truly alone in this. They have so much to hold over each other, yet the gifts of power remain unused. It’s terrifying, but also oh so comforting.

Maybe in another world, they could have been comrades. They could’ve been on the same side of the war for once, their teamwork unmatched and unbeatable. They could’ve worn the same uniforms, could’ve protected each other’s backs. Maybe in another world, they would be free to love and would love unjudged. They could’ve openly shared their affections, could’ve shown themselves in their true nature without a hint of care. Not in this one, though.

Despite everything, Dream still has to go. He still has to go back up to heaven, to utter lies of how the demon king had bested him in battle once again. He still has to pretend that the bruises on him are borne of hatred and not of love, that he failed in his mission once again. How ironic that an angel would be the one to twist the truth.

Despite everything, Techno still has to stay. He still has to sit still on his throne, to utter lies of how he had wounded the angel into retreat once again. He still has to pretend that the bruises on him are borne of battle and not of peace, that he failed in his mission once again. How ironic that a demon would be the one to show mercy.

They kiss, one more time and not one last time. It feels right when the distance isn’t there, and feels wrong when it is. It’s swift and fleeting, not unlike the angel when he slips through the open window and flies away with the promise of ‘tomorrow’ sealed with their lips. 

_Don't get it twisted 'cause, I could be really into us_

_Or I can leave you just because, because…_

**Author's Note:**

> this is really short, and it was pretty self indulgent so there's not much to point out. this is somewhat of a break before i jump straight into another longer wip i just recently made an outline for, so im definitely testing the waters with this. it's purely experimental honestly, but i do have some details :DD
> 
> 1\. at some point, dream stops being referred to as "the angel" and instead "his angel". it happens during the dialogue after techno pins dream down, and serves as a transition into the reveal of the sweeter parts of their relationship.
> 
> 2\. techno's eyes are rubies to dream's emeralds. its a neat little detail ive always wanted to use.
> 
> 3\. you can tell i had a lot of fun with the angel to demon thing, despite it being a pain to write without using religious references. i wanted to point out the similarities between them, and how they seemed like just reflections of each other on different sides of the same mirror. i hope it worked.
> 
> there really isn't much more to say skdfjs this was honestly just a lot of worldbuilding, and a lot of descriptive metaphors im trying out. this is practice, in a sense :DD im trying to get a feel for the sweet spot when it comes to writing at least skdjfh


End file.
